


VHS

by Anonymous



Series: Absent Fathers [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Forced Prostitution, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Okay please heed the warnings, Past Rape/Non-con, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 21:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30095124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: At the bottom of the bin, there are several tapes labeled with names that aren’t Sam’s or Dean’s.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Absent Fathers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207571
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45
Collections: anonymous





	VHS

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* I have a final paper I haven't started, so here, have another WIP along the same lines as 105 and Touch.  
> ... If somebody doesn't make me focus I might fail this class. Send help.  
> *clears throat* please see tags for warnings and feel free to ask if you have questions. There is no "on-screen" rape, but it is implied, referenced, and discussed in depth. John is the coercive party in the forced prostitution, so be forewarned about that.  
> Rating subject to change depending on the next chapter.

When John’s old phone goes off, Sam stares at it like it’s a recognizably venomous snake. 

He answers the call, though. Of course he does.

“Hello?”

“Is this Robert Plant?”

_Really, Dad? You were always so obvious with the aliases._

Sam’s response is old muscle memory rising to the surface. “He’s dead. I’m his son. Who is this?”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that. This is the owner of Page Storage? In Wichita?”

Sam doesn’t remember ever hearing about this before. But then, John liked his secrets. 

“Right, right,” Sam says, feigning remembrance. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, unfortunately, after thirty-eight years, we’re closing down. Robert’s stuff is still here, so I figured I’d give him a call and let him know so he could get it moved somewhere else.”

Sam remembers vividly what happened the last time someone got into his father’s storage. “I can be there in… three hours?”

“See you then.” The guy hangs up.

Dean, Jack, and Cas are in South Carolina going after a nest of vampires, so Sam shoots his brother a quick text and goes to find Eileen. 

One hurriedly-created fake ID and a very long goodbye kiss later, Sam’s in Eileen’s truck and headed for Wichita. He fiddles with the radio until he finds the local classic rock station. 

Sam thinks The Rolling Stones is a fitting soundtrack for dealing with his father’s mess. 

Still, he sings along to _Gimme Shelter_. 

Sam’s ID, which declares him to be David Plant, gets him through the gates of the storage facility. Jimmy Page tells Sam the storage unit he wants is number 72, gives him the key, and heads back to his office. 

Sam parks outside John’s storage unit, takes a deep breath, and unlocks it. 

There isn’t much inside, which is surprising, considering how well-stocked John’s boltholes usually were. There’s a few guns, a sword-- Sam’s pretty sure he just found Dean’s birthday present-- and a bin of VHS tapes. 

Sam stashes the weapons beneath the truck bed’s cover before rummaging through the bin of tapes. John’s familiar, oddly elegant handwriting is on each of them. 

_Sammy soccer, Dean wrestling, Dean baseball, Sammy spelling bee,_ and so on. Sam reluctantly smiles. 

He knows John cared. Sam has even forgiven John for the things he did to him and Dean, more or less. These tapes are just more of John’s bitter, complex legacy. 

At the bottom of the bin, there are several tapes which are labeled with names that aren’t Sam’s or Dean’s. They all have years between 1990 and 2000 on them. Some of the names are familiar-- Leon Sharp was one of John’s weapons suppliers, Noah Hudson let John, Sam, and Dean share his cabin for a summer-- while others aren’t. Sam has no idea who William Petty or Eva Scott are, for example.

Sam makes a note to watch the unfamiliar ones first. Knowing the Winchester luck, they’re probably cursed to kill the viewer in seven days or something. 

He hauls the bin of tapes into the backseat of the truck and starts towards home. 

Sam still has a TV with the capacity to play VHS tapes from a case where he and Dean hunted a poltergeist that only showed up on digital film. After eating with Eileen and turning down her offer to watch the tapes with him, Sam drags the TV into his room and selects one of the tapes labeled with an unfamiliar name. He picks the one with the earliest date.

There’s a few seconds of black, and then John is filling the screen. Sam’s breath catches at the sight of his father so young. John can’t be much older than forty. 

John says, “The date is July 17th, 1994. We are in Mesa, Arizona.” 

“I don’t know why you’re filming, John,” a male voice says from behind the camera. 

“So you don’t betray me.” John’s tone says that his answer should be obvious. 

The other person snorts. “Sure. We still got a deal? You take as long as you want with my records, I get that long with the kid?”

Sam’s gut is telling him something is very wrong, but his father is nodding. 

“Let’s get started,” John says. 

The camera flips around to face the other man in the room. He’s balding, but there’s clearly solid muscle beneath his clothes. 

“This is William Petty,” John says. Petty gives a sardonic wave to the camera.

Sam doesn’t recognize him. 

The camera shudders as it’s placed on what Sam presumes to be a table. It’s adjusted until a large bed is centered in the frame. 

Sam recognizes the decor in the room. He was ten when they spent a month in Mesa, but the hotel walls were painted such an eye-watering shade of green that he remembers it. 

It’s easier to focus on the paint job than the fact that Dean is on the bed, looking as afraid as Sam can remember him seeing before Hell. 

Sam tells himself that he has to be misinterpreting the situation. He has to be. 

“Clothes off, kid,” Petty orders. 

Sam’s stomach lurches. But John is in the room, surely--

Dean hesitates. “Dad?”

“Do what he says, Dean,” John says. There’s that drill-sergeant tone in his voice, the one that always made Dean buckle and Sam bristle. 

Dean pulls his shirt over his head. He pauses long enough for it to be noticeable before he takes off his jeans, but he does it before either of the men in the room can say anything. 

“Boxers, too,” Petty says. 

Dean’s head turns toward John. 

“It’s you or Sam, Dean,” John tells him.

Sam’s hands curl into fists. Dean’s hands are visibly shaking as he pushes down his boxers.

“Good boy,” Petty says. “Now lie down on your stomach. Hands on the headboard.”

Sam waits for John to do something. What, Sam’s not sure. Something. Preferably killing Petty. 

Sam’s father does nothing. John does nothing as Petty cuffs Dean’s hands to the headboard, nothing as Petty strips, nothing as Petty starts to--

Sam turns the TV off. 

He doesn’t know if he can physically stomach watching anymore. He doesn’t know if watching at all will make Dean hate him. 

All he knows is that there are seven tapes like this one. 

When Eileen comes in for bed, the tapes are stashed deep in the Bunker’s archives along with the TV. 

“Did it help?” she asks. 

Sam nods and forces a smile. His hands aren’t shaking as he signs, “It was… it told me some stuff.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Sam says.

She clearly doesn’t believe him, but she must chalk it up to childhood memories because she doesn’t push. 

Sam puts his arm around Eileen and stares at the ceiling until four am. Then he pads out of the room. 

He doesn’t know what the hell to do. Does he call Dean? Wait for Dean to get back? Talk to Cas and try to make a plan of attack?

What Sam ends up doing is grabbing the bottle of Scotch Rowena gave him for his birthday. 

He calls Dean not long after. 

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice is groggy. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Dad had tapes,” Sam says. He can’t manage to say much more than that. He’ll throw up if he tries. Sam isn’t sure if that’s due to how drunk he is or what he saw on that tape. 

Dean sighs. “Dude. Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Sam.”

“... Maybe.”

Dean sighs again. Sam is just aware enough to feel guilty. As far as he knows, Dean hasn’t got drunk since Cas got back, and this has to be an unwelcome reminder of his sobriety. “Go sleep it off, Sam. We’re in Greenville. We’ll be back tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. Whatever you’re talking about can wait until then.”

Dean hangs up. 

Sam goes to throw up.

Sam avoids Eileen the next day. Her brow creases when she notices, but she lets him get away with it.

Sam’s awake when Cas, Dean, and Jack walk in at one in the morning. Dean pauses in the bunker doorway when he sees Sam. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yep.” Sam clears his throat. “Peachy.”

Dean tilts his head in a way which makes his disbelief evident, but nods and starts down the stairs. “Great. We’re going to bed.”

“Can we talk first?” Sam blurts out. 

Dean blinks. “Uh, sure. Just let me put my bag away, okay?”

Dean claps Sam on the shoulder as he passes. Jack demands a hug from Sam before bounding after Dean. 

Cas waits for Jack’s footsteps before saying, “Be careful, Sam.”

Sam stares at Cas. “You know about--”

“Be careful,” Cas repeats. He walks away without anything further. 

Dean passes Cas coming back to the main room. Sam’s brother takes a seat across the table from Sam. 

“What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?” Dean asks. 

Sam meets Dean’s eyes and says, “Like I said. Dad had tapes.”

Dean spreads his hands in irritated acknowledgement. “Good for him? What, you getting nostalgic about the good old days?”

Sam almost buys Dean’s ignorance. Almost. 

Sam says, “William Petty.”

He sees Dean flinch only because he’s looking for it. 

Dean asks, “The weird guy in Arizona who kept records on electrical anomalies? What about him?”

“He happened to be on one of those tapes.”

“And?”

“And I think you know, Dean.”

“And I think maybe you should come out and fucking say whatever it is you’re tap dancing around, Sam.”

Dean’s pissed. Sam can’t blame him. 

Sam says, “Dad used you as-- as a payment.”

Dean’s jaw twitches. He says, “Yeah. Anything else?”

Sam’s jaw drops a little. “‘Anything else?’ That’s all?”

“Yeah, Sam. That’s all. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to bed.”

Sam watches Dean walk away and can think of nothing to say. 

Sam stews on it for a week. Dean breaks three plates in that time. 

After seven days, Eileen orders Sam to take Dean on a hunt. 

“Fix whatever it is you did,” she orders him. 

“I don’t know how,” Sam confesses. “What if I can’t?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You beat God. You can talk to your brother.”

She has a point. 

Sam finds a hunt in Kearney, Nebraska. 

Dean claims the first shift of driving. They leave the bunker behind in silence. 

Sam stares out the window and tries to think of how to phrase the wordless fury and worry that’s raging in his chest. 

Dean pulls off at an empty rest stop outside Lincoln. Sam glances at him, confused because they’d just stopped an hour ago. 

Dean gets out of the car without a word. Sam follows. 

Dean leans against the Impala’s hood and says, “Say what you’re gonna say, Sammy.”

Sam faces Dean with his back to the Interstate. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dean smiles. The expression makes Sam flinch. It’s a little too close to the way Dean smiled as a demon-- empty. 

“What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to tell my ten year old brother that Dad had me take it up the ass so he could look at information that turned out to be useless? Would that have changed anything?”

“I don’t know,” Sam says. Dean’s smile flickers. “I don’t know, Dean. Probably not at that point. But later? We could have--”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Dean says, “because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”

Sam’s temper flares. “It is a big deal, Dean. You were--”

“Don’t use that word, Sam.” Dean’s smile is gone now. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

Sam bites down hard on the word _raped_. It stings in his mouth like whiskey. 

“You can ask your questions,” Dean says. He’s studying the gravel between his boots. “But don’t you use that word.”

Sam picks his next words carefully. A semi roars past them thirty feet away. “You were twenty when the last tape was filmed.”

“Yup. Don’t ask why I stayed, Sam. You’re smart enough to figure that one out.”

“You weren’t gonna leave Dad,” Sam says. 

Dean nods.

“And you wouldn’t disobey him.” 

Dean snorts. “Couldn’t, at that point. Never could for anything but you.”

“Okay.” Sam watches his brother watch the ground. “Dean, I-- Dad said it was you or me. Did you stay to--”

“You’re smart enough to figure that one out too, Sam.”

Sam nods a few times. “Was it your first time?”

Dean’s silence tells Sam the answer to that one. 

Sam nods some more. He swipes his flannel sleeve over his eyes, but the tears spill down his face anyway.

“Aw, hell, Sammy,” Dean mutters. Dean stands up and tugs Sam into a hug. 

“I should’ve stopped it,” Sam chokes out. “I should’ve--”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Dean tells him. He tugs on Sam’s hair gently with one hand. “There’s nothing I could have done, either. It’s over, it’s done, and I’m past it. It was a long time ago. Okay?”

Sam presses his face into Dean’s shoulder and nods. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two will be set before chapter one. It'll be Dean and Cas working through Dean's experiences.  
> I'm on Tumblr as crucifixinhell.


End file.
